


Under the Watchful Eyes

by aameyalli



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:42:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23657794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aameyalli/pseuds/aameyalli
Summary: Brosca fights in the Provings to keep her family alive. Aeducan fights to mark her turf.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Under the Watchful Eyes

Lady Margot leaned over the rock bannister, watching the Aeducan champion— _ her _ champion, supposedly—scuttle up the Proving bracket like a cave beetle up a wall.

Margot had no idea who it was inside that armor. Not Everd Bera, whose name was penned in for Aeducan today while Margot was “busy” being a stateswoman. Everd fought like a drunk bronto. No. This was a scrappy fighter, small and mean. They used none of the flourishes or footwork or showy bursts of blackout powder that most rogues liked. They were just brawling.  _ Viciously.  _ They grabbed their opponents’ helmets and stuck fingers in their eyes. They broke wrists. They stabbed below the belt. It wasn’t proper. It wasn’t legal. Worst of all, it wasn’t sanctioned by the Honorable House Aeducan.

The crowd loved them. Margot seethed.

The current match was “Aeducan” vs Ortan. They didn’t even trade words. As soon as the match was announced Ortan charged the Aeducan champion with his shield and bashed them in the chest. Margot could hear the painful boom of air leaving their lungs, even from the balcony. The arena was that quiet, watching.

The champion hit the dust hard, bounced and rolled, and for a second it seemed like their helmet would be jarred loose and Ortan would have them, and this joke of a Proving would end with laughter at House Aeducan’s expense.

Ortan lifted his sword. The Aeducan champion bucked against the ground and kicked him in the groin. Twice. With a spiked metal sabaton. He fell, and the champion kicked him once more in the chin to knock him out, then tore off his helmet and lifted it in triumph, all without getting up from the blood-spattered packed-dust floor. Just lying on their back like a slug. The crowd screamed.

Margot wished for them to take off their own helmet, show their face so she could punish them later. Often when Margot wished things, they happened just by miracle. But the champion kept their helmet on. Ugh. Margot hated them. A cheater  _ and _ afraid.

“They’re vile,” Margot told Gorim.

“They’re amazing,” said Gorim. “Better than me. Maybe even—“

He bit the sentence off quickly, but Margot wasn’t stupid. She gripped the bannister like she could break it in her hands, long nails scraping stone, and stared fire down at the champion. “Better than me?” she suggested, sickly sweet and nasty. “Do you think so, Gorim?”

He looked stricken. “No!“

“Gorim,” said Margot. Her voice was raised now, ringing out clear over the arena like a bell. “Tell the Proving Master I wish to fight a bout. I wish to _ thank _ my champion for representing the Honorable House of Aeducan so well.”

The Proving Master held out his hands placatingly. “No need, My Lady Aeducan! The Proving is held in  _ your _ honor. Why wound yourself before a great battle, when your champion has won already?”

“Sod that.” Margot wrenched her hair into a tight, messy knot at the base of her skull, and jammed on her helmet. “Gorim,” she sang. “Make him announce me.”

Gorim looked at the Proving Master, who looked back in alarm, then cleared his throat. “It is well within your rights.”

Margot descended from the royal balcony and the crowd parted before her, scrambling to bow and get out of her way. She was going to teach this cheater the rules of a Proving, and she was going to have  _ fun. _

“People of Orzammar, we have a late entry to these Provings, held on the eve of battle for the honor of House Aeducan. I give you... the Lady Aeducan herself!”

Margot stepped out into the dust and drew her mother’s sword. The blade trilled against its sheath. She leveled the blade at her champion and enemy’s chest. It caught the light cruelly, so silver it was almost pink.

“You will not embarrass my House again tonight,” Margot said. “You have been a very bad pet, and I am putting you down.”

The champion took a step back. Margot hoped they were pissing in their armor but the helmet, dark and shiny, betrayed nothing, and they were quiet.

“This is a glory Proving, fought under the watchful eyes of the Paragons of Orzammar for the honor of House Aeducan. Lady Aeducan will fight the Aeducan champion.” To his credit, the Proving Master didn’t fumble his words. “First warrior to fall is vanquished. Fight!”

Margot swung first, hard and graceful. She’d watched the fights with a general’s eye. She wouldn’t make the others’ mistakes of charging fast, striking slow, showing off. The champion dodged, shuffled backward, and dodged again. Margot advanced slowly, kept her footwork tight and her sword in motion. She had the champion on the back foot right away. Ducking. Weaving. Retreating. She landed a blow on their ribcage with the flat of her blade, then another on the side of the head that sent them staggering. She swept them like dirt before her, driving them across the pit. Another hit. Another. All legal, all righteous and precise with the flat of her blade, but hard enough to fracture bone.

Hidden behind Margot’s visor, her toothy smile glowed.

Then, suddenly, the champion jumped on her. Just jumped on her, thighs wrapping around her waist, one arm thrown around her neck and choking her. With the other, they punched her in the face. Metal crunched metal. Margot’s head snapped back. And then the champion sliced her belly open.

That was  _ not  _ allowed.

Blood sprayed up in a vibrant arc. Margot cried out, as much from anger as pain, and dropped her sword. It buried itself in the dust with a soft thud. For a second the champion stayed half wrapped around her, holding her upright, almost fondly, and then she shoved them back with a rough shout. She stumbled away from them, pressing her hands to her stomach to keep her guts in, and left a trail of red on the ground.

The crowd was screaming and heaving together like a single, bloodied animal, waiting for their princess to strike back and kill the stranger. As Margot fell to her knees instead, they all went quiet.

Margot stayed down, panting. Under the helmet her face was hot and streaming sweat. She didn’t understand the red running over her hands. It wasn’t a fatal blow, of course it wasn’t—she was Lady Aeducan, next General of Orzammar, and she was in heavy armor. But the blood—her blood, spilled on a _ fucking _ Proving Ground by some no-face bitch—

With a scream of fury, Margot snatched up her sword and launched upward, smashing the pommel into the gap between the champion’s helm and collar. The helmet popped off like a cork. As the champion reared back, bellowing, Margot saw their face— _ her _ face. Brown and heart-shaped, wide black angry eyes, choppy hair standing on end—and a casteless brand like an open sore. Immediately she threw up her hands, hiding her face from the crowd or protecting it for another blow, but the damage was done.

“NO!” Margot roared. The sound was barely recognizable as her voice, shrill and savage and echoing in the pit. “NO!!” It couldn’t. It couldn’t. She couldn’t have. “NO!!”

The crowd was rioting again.

“Casteless! You—“ This time, the Proving Master stuttered. “You insult the very nature of this Proving! Guards, take this—take this _ filth _ away!”

Soldiers moved into the pit and closed in slowly, weapons drawn, on Margot and the casteless bitch, who lowered her hands, giving up. A bruise was already blooming red on her jaw, beneath the brand.

“Yikes. Sorry. Looks like I’m not the one embarrassing your House, huh?” The Brand had the nerve to smile at her, showing a gap between front teeth.

“You shame no one,” said Margot. “You have no House.” And she spat royal blood in her face.

The guards took the Brand away. Some of them tried to help Margot and she pushed them all away until Gorim came and looped her free arm over his shoulder and said “I’m sorry, Margie.”

The Proving Master hurried to disqualify the Brand and declare the fight in Margot’s favor, but she was barely listening. It didn’t matter.

As she stormed off the field, one arm wrapped around her wounded stomach and the other draped around Gorim, she felt the eyes of Orzammar on her back. She knew what they were thinking. She’d been beaten by a Brand. Publicly. Badly. The best thing for her now would be to die in the Deep Roads campaign tomorrow.

But they were wrong. They were  _ wrong! _ She was Lady Fucking Aeducan, next General of Orzammar, Father’s Favorite, Bhelen’s Favorite, Orzammar’s Favorite, Beloved of the Stone, and they’d never see a drop of her blood again. And she’d do anything to guarantee that. Anything.

Bhelen was waiting for her in the palace.

**Author's Note:**

> i know it's technically canon that they were two different provings but i do what i want and what i want is a princess & the pauper enemies to lovers shitty battle couple romance between two horrible horrible dwarves. bite me bioware


End file.
